Chapter 124: You Seem to Think Too Highly of Yourself

“Did I say that?”

Old Wang, the nearest Storm Spirit, suddenly froze. Skye, what was that supposed to mean?

He had no time to think about it.

Although one sonic cannon was aimed at Skye, the other was pointed at him—and it had already fired.

In an instant, an invisible shock wave swept toward Old Wang.

The lush grass on the ground was ripped apart, and great quantities of soil were hurled into the air. The Hydra agents caught between Old Wang and the sonic cannon were blasted away as though struck by Thor’s hammer, flying backward at ten times the speed of a hundred-meter sprint before crashing heavily dozens of meters away. Blood poured from their mouths. They were plainly dead.

And there was more than one.

To prevent Old Wang from evading, the sonic cannon covered an enormous area. Seven or eight Hydra agents were caught in the blast, and not one survived.

The four incarnations of Old Wang had already spread apart. The sonic cannon was aimed at the Earth Spirit and the Storm Spirit.

The force of the impact was enough to make even the Hulk proceed cautiously. No matter how confident Old Wang was, he could not match the Hulk in sheer strength, so there was no reason to take the blast head-on.

The Earth Spirit rolled across the ground. A vast amount of earth elemental energy condensed over his body, transforming him into a boulder more than three meters in diameter. He slightly altered its course and sent it rolling toward the other Hydra agents.

Its already tremendous speed became even faster with the shock wave behind it. Old Wang actively controlled its movement as more than a dozen Hydra agents screamed and fled.

Unfortunately, they were not fast enough. In moments, they had become flattened meat.

On the other side, the Storm Spirit abruptly raised a hand. A powerful hurricane sprang into existence, countering the shock wave while sending the nearby Hydra agents soaring into the sky.

“Jade-Shattering Lightning!”

Jade-colored lightning appeared. Strengthened by the Storm Spirit’s elemental form, it was thick and long. It did not strike the sonic cannon, but rather the enemies operating it.

Those struck flew into a rage, then swiftly turned black—blacker than a boiled egg.

Seeing that the sonic cannon had not been damaged, Old Wang breathed a sigh of relief.

These custom-built high-tech weapons were not only incredibly expensive but also difficult to acquire. Hydra had kindly delivered two of them to him. He could neither refuse them nor allow them to be damaged. He would remember this favor.

“As repayment, I’ll send you all to your next lives!”

Earth and wind in the center, water and fire to either side.

Wherever the Ember Spirit passed, only ashes remained.

A ring of crimson flame encircled his body. No bullet or attack could penetrate it. Anyone who tried to approach was incinerated by heat far hotter than a flamethrower could produce. Even alloy weapons could not withstand it.

More bizarrely, every few seconds, an afterimage would appear wherever the Ember Spirit had passed. Though not as nimble as the Ember Spirit itself, it moved in perfect imitation of him. It was just as difficult to resist, and bullets could not destroy it.

The Water Spirit was a gentle existence. In such a dry environment, he could not display much of his strength and could only attack with martial-arts techniques.

Bullets passed through his body, yet the wounds they left behind closed instantly. He simply could not be killed.

A fear Whitehall had not felt in decades suddenly surged through him.

Were these really human powers? Why did they resemble the gods of myth—the God of Fire, the God of Wind, the God of Water, and the Mother Earth?

No.

They lacked the world-destroying might of the gods in myth and legend, but they were still terrifying beyond measure.

“It’s time to retreat,” Whitehall thought.

The armored vehicle continued racing into the distance, away from the battlefield. His own safety mattered more than anything else.

Although this operation had failed, there would be another chance.

He simply had not expected all four Iron Fists to be real. The power of the Darkhold was clearly far greater than he had imagined. Could it truly be connected to the legendary god of the underworld, Chthon?

He gave Old Wang a long, hard look, then turned toward Skye.

Her left leg was bent forward at the knee, her rear leg stretched taut behind her. With her head raised and chest thrust out, both hands extended before her, palms facing forward. Invisible vibrations clashed with the sonic cannon, while every bullet flying toward her slowed at a speed visible to the naked eye, unable to draw near.

Skye was like the eye of a tornado. Around her, the shock waves churned the air into a raging storm, leaving her in an empty sanctuary.

Dozens of his men had been hurled into the sky. Was the Obelisk truly so powerful? Could it really grant one person the ability to stand against an elite force in such a short time?

The vibrations affected everyone.

Even from far away, Whitehall felt dizzy and light-headed. His lips trembled, and his heart raced. How could those closest to the blast possibly escape unharmed?

His heart was pounding as if it might explode.

It was a catastrophe!

Suddenly—

A tremendous crash rang out.

The sonic cannon actually toppled over. Several components were damaged, and it fell silent.

The vehicle and cannon together weighed ten tons, yet they had been pushed over from more than a hundred meters away. What an incredible push. How had she done that?

Fortunately, the armored vehicle was powerful enough, and he had already escaped the battlefield. A helicopter was waiting for him in the distance. Once he was in the air, there would be nothing left to fear.

Watching the battlefield gradually disappear behind him, Whitehall felt both frustrated and exhilarated.

He was not a man who could be defeated easily. He had survived forty-four years in prison. What did he have left to fear?

No matter how powerful the Immortal Iron Fists were, they were still too fragile before high technology. This time, he would have to cooperate fully with Pierce and persuade him to mobilize even greater resources.

General Ross’s super-soldier program was said to have achieved some results. Tony Stark seemed to be researching a powered exoskeleton for individual soldiers. And recently, a company called Pioneer Technologies appeared to be producing a physical enhancement drug similar to the super-soldier serum. There were plenty of other possibilities as well.

Find a way to steal them—or seize them outright. That would do nicely.

The Cosmic Cube had been in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s possession for years, yet they had still failed to produce anything worthwhile. If necessary, he could ask Pierce for help. With a different face, he could enter the facility himself and conduct the research.

Back then, Dr. Zola had used the Cosmic Cube to create numerous weapons of devastating power, weapons capable of killing the Immortal Iron Fist.

If Zola could do it, so could he.

The armored vehicle soon reached the helicopter. Whitehall and Bakshi climbed out, followed by more than twenty trusted subordinates, and boarded the aircraft.

The helicopter took off, and Whitehall let out a long breath.

“At last, we’re safe.”

His taut nerves finally relaxed. He took a file from the briefcase beside him and began to read.

It concerned the Darkhold.

Everything he had witnessed that day had made one thing clear: the Darkhold was the most important and powerful object of all. The Obelisk was utterly incomparable. The Darkhold was his true priority.

As he read, Whitehall rubbed his neck. It felt strangely cold.

Something was wrong.

It was not merely cold now. It had been cold all along.

It was as though something had been watching him from behind, occasionally breathing against his neck.

An invisible hand rested upon his throat. The icy chill convinced him that someone—or perhaps something—was truly there.

Whitehall’s heart lurched, but he quickly composed himself.

Recalling everything that had happened, he understood. In a voice devoid of emotion, he said, “Immortal Iron Fist? How long have you been watching?”

“About as long as you have,” Old Wang replied.

“All right. I surrender.”

Whitehall remained perfectly calm. He even smiled.

“You didn’t kill me because you need me, correct? I can join your laboratory and work for you. I can help you study the Darkhold, the Obelisk, and the Winter Soldier. You have no need to follow Fury. With my help, one day you could swallow S.H.I.E.L.D.—even Hydra.”

“Old man, you seem to think rather too highly of yourself.”

Old Wang’s body quickly became tangible. Before the others could raise their guns, he killed every one of them, Bakshi included.

Only Whitehall remained.

That made Whitehall feel even more at ease.

He understood perfectly well how important a top scientist was. S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept him imprisoned for forty-four years without killing him. The man behind him would naturally do the same.

He also understood that his true faith was not Hydra. He merely intended to borrow Hydra’s power to realize his own dreams:

To pursue mythology, dissect legends, transform himself, and rule humanity.

Perhaps he could even make use of the Immortal Iron Fist’s power.

Unfortunately, he could never have imagined what awaited him.

“Fly the helicopter. We’re going back to the laboratory,” Old Wang said.

Then his phone suddenly rang.

On the screen appeared a bouncing boiled egg.